


Ten Shots Later

by Lupin807



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Humor, Canon Compliant, Cheating, Cigarettes, Drunken Shenanigans, F/M, Harry Potter Epilogue Compliant, Heavy Drinking, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Infidelity, M/M, Ron Weasley is a Good Friend, Underage Smoking, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:07:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23628178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lupin807/pseuds/Lupin807
Summary: Roughly seven years after the final battle in a particularly boisterous bar at a celebration for another Auror's birthday in their department, Harry and Ron are sent shots of firewhiskey - compliments of none other than Draco Malfoy: blonde hair and smirk sold separately.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 12
Kudos: 70





	Ten Shots Later

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, dear reader! I am still rather self-conscious about posting my fanfiction online, so any comments/constructive criticism is much appreciated.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

* * *

In the waiting silence, Harry’s eyes, impossibly green and slightly glazed, focused hard on the innocent looking little glass on the table in front of him.

“C’mon, Harry!” Someone in the crowd on his left yelled, causing others to do the same.

“Yeah, Harry! You can do it!”

“Y’can’t lose ta _him,_ mate,” Ron slurred quietly in his right ear.

His courage peaking again at his best friend’s words, his fingers quickly enclosed around the glass and he brought it up to his lips, knocking the vicious liquid back to an eruption of cheers.

“Seven to seven!” yelled a scantily clad girl, who looked a bit too young to be involved with the crowded bar scene.

Someone clapped Harry on the shoulder and the whiskey that had just settled into his stomach threatened to change direction. He inhaled deeply, willing it back down, swallowing repeatedly.

The waitress re-appeared, clearing away the fourteen empty shot glasses with a flick of her wand and a smile toying at her candy red lips that suggested she had seen this situation a hundred times before.

The man across from Harry leaned over to her, whispering in her ear. She nodded and smiled, pulling back from him, wiping her hands on her black apron as she turned away and disappeared through the crowd.

Harry glared at him. He couldn’t possibly have–

Just then, the most popular song that summer started to blare throughout the bar, causing many of the girls around them to squeal in delight, tugging their friends away to the dancefloor.

As the crowd around their table thinned out a bit, the waitress returned, expertly holding a tray above her head with one hand and turning to her side to move between the patrons. She carefully set it down on the table in front of Harry.

“Right, then,” she said smiling. “Here you are… six more fire shots.” She set three down in a line in front of him, delicately holding each one between the thumb and middle fingers of her right hand as she did so. She placed the others down in the same fashion across the table in front of none other than Draco Malfoy, who had started all this nonsense, the bastard. He tipped her three galleons and she beamed at him before disappearing again.

There came a low ‘oooh’ from the crowd around them that had formed earlier, gaining interest as the two men drunkenly challenged each other.

“Scared?” Malfoy said, noting the obvious look of trepidation on Harry’s face, taunting him as if they were still small school children.

“You’re not serious,” Harry replied, tongue feeling too thick in his mouth.

Malfoy smirked, and to show just how serious he was, he picked up the first shot and knocked it back without so much as a blink of an eye.

“Eight to seven!” the same young girl said loudly, smiling at Malfoy in a way Harry could only describe as seductive.

“Make that ten to seven, love,” he told her, and in the next two seconds, knocked back his remaining two shots, one after the other.

The crowd around them _oooh’d_ again, and some people were whooping or whistling while others laughed.

“ _Ten!_ to seven,” she said, and leaned in close to Malfoy, her cleavage clearly visible and her skirt that Harry thought was much too short riding up her thighs.

“I admire a man who can hold his liquor,” she gave him a flirty little laugh. Harry watched Malfoy’s smirk spread into a small, devilish grin as he looked at her, taking in the show.

“What can I say? Some of us are just better than others…” he said, his voice silky, knowing that Harry was still watching him and listening. He brought his left hand up, smoothing his blonde hair back, and Harry saw the silver band on his ring finger glint in the low light of the bar.

Ignoring his sober voice of reason that told him winning this stupid, impromptu challenge that had erupted after the two men – who had not seen each other for nearly six years – didn’t matter, Harry reached for another shot.

“Better, my _arse_ , Malfoy,” he said, knocking it back. He immediately reached for the second and then the third, doing the same.

“Ten to ten!” the girl laughed. “Boy, you two really go at it _hard,_ don’t you?” She stood at the side of their table, hands on her slim hips looking between them.

For some reason – _it’s the damn firewhiskey,_ Harry told himself – her words made him blush.

“We’ve always had quite the… rivalry, wouldn’t you say, Potter?” he said quietly.

“Potter?” she said, eyes widening. “Wait – _Harry Potter?_ ” she was suddenly breathless, moving closer to him, her eyes searching his forehead for –

“Yes, indeed, the famous Chosen One and only,” Malfoy said, smirking at him and leaning his crossed arms onto the table. Harry’s mouth pressed into a thin line in aggravation, blush deepening.

“You’re friends?” she asked him, her eyes twinkling.

To Harry’s surprise, Malfoy laughed, something he only recalled the blonde doing when he had been belittling his friends or himself at Hogwarts.

“Not exactly, love,” he said, and Harry suspected Malfoy wasn’t as immune to the effects of alcohol as he had claimed to be earlier that evening.

“Y’see, _I_ was in _Slytherin,_ ” he continued, and Harry definitely heard the slur in Malfoy’s low voice this time, “and _everyone_ knows that Golden Boy over there was in _Gryffindor._ ”

“Ohh,” she said, leaning into the table. Harry, who could feel his own drunkenness over-taking him, noticed how her heavy breasts pressed against the wood.

“I’m in – I mean, I _was_ in Hufflepuff.” She rested her chin on her fist, looking Malfoy in the eyes through her unnaturally long, black lashes. “You know, I never knew anything about all this house rivalry and famous witches and wizards type of stuff until I started Hogwarts because my parents are muggles.”

Harry snorted.

She knit her brows together, turning her head to look at him.

“You got a problem with that?” she huffed, leaning back up from the table.

“No, but he might,” Harry said, nodding towards Malfoy.

“I do not,” he said, staring at Harry and Harry’s eyes went wide. “I may have used to, but not anymore.” He ran a hand over his hair again, nose in the air, looking just as arrogant as ever.

“Changed your ways, then, Malfoy? Grew a heart over the last six years?”

Malfoy smirked yet again.

“No. I still hate you, Scarhead.”

Harry, who was beginning to feel much, much too warm, laughed. “Feeling’s mutual, mate,” he said, and Malfoy actually _smiled_ at him.

“So, you two fought a lot at school, then?” she asked him curiously, and Harry tore his eyes away from the blonde’s mouth.

“Oh, _yeah,_ ” Malfoy answered quickly before Harry could, leaning back and searching his robe for something.

“Yeah,” Harry quietly agreed, watching him.

“He nearly killed me the one time,” Malfoy said, still rummaging, and it was clear now that Malfoy was just as drunk as he was.

“What?!” she exclaimed, her eyes going wide at Harry. “No!”

“I di’nt –” Harry started to say, his head swimming.

“The fuck you _di’nt,_ Potter,” Malfoy said, hand finally closing around something in his pocket. He pulled a pack of cigarettes – _muggle_ cigarettes – out and set them down on the table before turning to the young girl. “Look at this shit and tell me he _di’nt,”_ he said, and unbuttoned the first four buttons on his most likely very expensive black shirt, pulling it apart to show her part of his pale chest, partially revealing the curve of a long, shiny scar. She gasped.

“Oh my g-”

“I _didn’t_ know it would do that!” he yelled, hand slamming the table, his face red. One of the empty shot glasses fell over and started rolling in a circle. Malfoy stared at him.

“Are you serious, Potter?”

“Yeah, ‘m serious!” he said, swaying dangerously on his stool. “It was in – wrote ‘n – writ in – written in – that damn Potions book tha’ was Snape’s,” he said, old memories swirling around in his mind hazily. "So I jus’ said it – I had no _clue_ it would –” he swallowed thickly, eyeing Malfoy’s look of disbelief, still feeling ashamed all these years later.

And then, surprising him yet again that night, Malfoy laughed. He _really_ laughed, his bar stool almost toppling over as he stood up from it, his broad shoulders shaking as he gripped the table, head down in hysterics.

The girl between them giggled.

“Only –” he gasped. “Only Harry _bloody_ Potter could use a Dark spell like that and have no fucking _clue–”_ he laughed again, and Harry was indignant at first, because it really _hadn’t_ been funny. He had felt terribly frightened and guilty, and he had remembered that guilt many, many, times over the years since but now – now Malfoy was laughing about it. And Harry supposed – as he saw Malfoy put his forehead down on the table, which shook slightly from his laughter – it _was_ sort of funny just how crazy that whole thing had been, and suddenly, for the first time ever, Harry found himself laughing with Draco Malfoy.

“Ah,” Malfoy sighed, his laughter finally subsiding. “Merlin, I need a smoke,” he said, standing up and swaying back a bit, grabbing the pack he had put on the table.

“Can I join you?” the girl asked him enthusiastically.

“Sure, love,” Malfoy said, draping an arm around her shoulders, her face pressing into his chest slightly, and Harry looked at Malfoy’s silver wedding band again before drunkenly looking down at his own gold one.

“Coming, Potter?” Malfoy said, and although the sober voice in Harry’s head was politely saying _‘No, thank you, I don’t smoke,’_ Harry was clambering up from his barstool. He stumbled a bit as he got re-adjusted to gravity and followed Malfoy and the girl, whose name neither of them knew, to the back door of the bar that lead out to the smoking patio.

It was dark and crowded out back, only a dingy yellow light providing just enough of an amber glow to see. There was a bench meant to seat four people comfortably currently being occupied by seven, not including the girl sitting on her friend’s lap, giggling as they talked to some bloke with a plethora of tattoos who was wearing tight muggle clothing.

Malfoy, girl still attached to his side, moved along the crowd, brushing against the brick wall to an empty corner, discarded beer bottles and other bits of rubbish amidst a sea of cigarette butts on the ground around them. Taking his arm off her, he pulled three cigarettes from the pack, putting one in the corner of his mouth and handing the other two to the girl and Harry in silence. Malfoy then pulled a muggle – _muggle!_ – cigarette lighter from his pocket. The girl held the cigarette delicately against her lips between the index and middle fingers of her right hand, needlessly leaning over and looking up at Malfoy in a positively scandalous way. Malfoy lit hers up first and then, with the same flame, held it out to Harry.

Harry, who had never smoked a cigarette before in his entire life, mimicked the girl’s actions – minus the scandalous look – or so he _hoped –_ because he definitely did find it impossible _not_ to look up at Malfoy as he leaned in with his cigarette to the flame. Sucking in, the tip glowed orange and he promptly tried to stop himself from coughing. Malfoy, a knowing smirk on his face, brought the flame up to his own, sucking in deeply and then exhaling a large plume of smoke in a sigh of relief that sounded far too sexual for Harry’s comfort. He shifted his weight from his left foot to his right, trying not to sway, looking away from Malfoy and cursing firewhiskey for making him feel so pleasantly insane.

“Do you live around here?” Malfoy asked the girl, his low voice once again silky.

Or was it always like that?

“No,” she said, exhaling as well and expertly flicking the first ash that had formed. “I’m staying the weekend with a friend who has a flat on the west side. He’s inside with his boyfriend on the floor – they’ve been at it dancing all night.” She smiled, taking another drag of her cigarette and looking Malfoy up and down. “X.” she stated, rolling her eyes about it, and Malfoy nodded in understanding while Harry felt stupidly oblivious.

“Ex- what?” he asked, realizing that he forgot to ash as he went to attempt a second drag and quickly doing so. He inhaled carefully and surprisingly didn’t feel an urge to cough this time.

“Ecstasy – you know – Mandy? It’s a muggle drug,” she said, giggling. “I’ve never done it, but it’s supposed to be _great._ ”

“Eh. Didn’t do much for me. But then again it _is_ muggle stuff, so I’m not surprised.”

“You’ve done muggle drugs?” Harry replied in shock.

“I’ve done a lot you don’t know about, Potter.” Malfoy said, giving him a look that made Harry’s newly permanent blush deepen even moreso.

“Ooh, like what?” she cooed, stepping closer to Malfoy and shamelessly flirting.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he said, looking down at her and smirking. “How old are you, anyway?”

She giggled again, which Harry was really starting to find rather… annoying. She took another drag of her cigarette.

“You promise not to tell?” she asked, fake pout on her glittery, pink lips.

“Oh, I _promise_ , love,” Malfoy said, moving in closer.

Thrilled, she said, “Well, I’m still just sixteen – I’ll be seventeen in three months, but I’ll be back at Hogwarts by then for my last year.”

“Ahh,” Malfoy nodded. “How’d you manage to get in here?”

“My friend that I’m staying with – his sister is the waitress, yeah? And _she’s_ dating the bouncer, so –” she began giggling again.

“Mmm. I see. Good thing Law Enforcement doesn’t know then, yes?” he asked her quietly, looking at Harry pointedly. She caught the look and immediately looked terrified.

“Wait – you’re not –” she gasped.

“’M off duty. And so’s my partners – it’s one of their birthdays –” Harry couldn’t even remember whose now. “And ‘m drunk as fuck, so right now I don’t really give a shit.”

The girl sighed in relief and Malfoy huffed a short laugh. She hit him on the arm playfully.

“You _knew_ he’s an Auror and you still let me say all that? How –”

“Oh my god is that _Sandra?!_ ” 

The girl immediately stopped talking and turned around. Another girl wearing more dark eye make-up than clothing squealed at the sight of her.

“Jessie!” Their misbehaved sixteen-year-old acquaintance squealed back and embraced the other in a tight hug. “How have you _been_? How’s life after Hogwarts?! Are you still with what's-his-name…?” she said, and her friend began to reply animatedly, pulling her away. 

Moments later, Harry and Draco found themselves alone.

“What were you playing at with her anyway, Malfoy?” Harry said quietly, exhaling smoke, his eyes watching the girl and her friends disappear through the dwindled crowd back into the bar. “You’re married, right?”

Malfoy finished his cigarette, scrubbing it out on the brick next to him, sending a shower of orange embers dying slowly to the ground.

“Wasn’t playing anything, Potter.” he said, not answering Harry’s second question as he tossed the butt away carelessly.

Harry took one last drag – _it really wasn’t so bad –_ and then threw his own down near his foot, stepping on it.

“You were all over her,” Harry stated, glancing over at him as he swayed a bit again.

“ _She_ was all over _me,_ Potter. I can’t help it if I’m better looking than you,” he said, smirk reappearing as his hand reached out to the wall to steady himself.

“Wanker.” Harry responded.

“Arse.”

“Git.”

“Ponce.”

“Ferret.”

Malfoy paused at that, then started laughing again, and Harry joined right along with him.

Someone moved past Harry, brushing against him to pass, heading back inside the bar. “Sorry!” they said, and Harry muttered “No worries,” as he stepped forward and suddenly, drunkenly tripped on air, sending himself tumbling right into the brick wall –

Or he _thought_ he was going to hit the brick face first except that Malfoy had moved to catch him and Harry was so surprised in his stupor by it that he didn’t move out of Malfoy’s arms.

“Er, thanks,” he said awkwardly, looking up at Malfoy again, and Malfoy was saying “You’re an idiot,” before somehow their mouths were pressed together.

Harry wasn't sure who had first closed that distance, but it was Malfoy who first let his tongue gently pry open Harry's lips, and Harry let him, opening his mouth and meeting Malfoy’s tongue with his own. Malfoy tasted exactly the same as he did – firewhiskey and cigarettes – and the sober voice in his head, no longer polite, was screaming at him from far away to cease and desist this insanity _immediately_ – but then Malfoy sucked on Harry’s bottom lip, frantically gripping Harry’s t-shirt as they leaned against the brick and the sound of his blood rushing against his ears drowned that voice out.

Kissing Malfoy was more intoxicating than all twenty of the shots they had consumed together combined. Harry had never, _never_ been kissed like that in his entire life.

Malfoy kissed him like he needed Harry's mouth on his in order to breathe, one hand tightly wound into Harry’s thick black hair and the other clutching the side of his face. His tongue explored Harry’s mouth with a passionate, desperate intensity that went straight to Harry’s cock, hardening quickly beneath his denims.

Malfoy swallowed the small moan that escaped him, removing his hand from Harry’s face to trail his fingers down the deep dip of Harry’s back, pushing right over the curve of Harry’s arse. He slipped his hand tightly inside his back pocket, gripping the soft flesh covered by the remaining material. Harry gasped, finally breaking the kiss, and Malfoy seized the opportunity to use the hand he still had wound in Harry’s thick hair to roughly pull his head back, his mouth immediately going to the base of his long, exposed neck. He sucked at the dip there before licking a hot, wet trail over his adam’s apple, up the rest of his neck, moving Harry’s head to the side and licking his way along his jaw. Harry panted, his hands scrambling over Draco to pull him closer, and Malfoy's lips found Harry’s earlobe, nipping and sucking on it, hot breath harsh in his ear.

Harry’s hips involuntarily canted forward, meeting the other man’s and then their hard cocks were instantly pressed against each other through thick layers of fabric, sending shivers through them both. Harry heard Malfoy’s low groan in his ear before the blonde’s mouth covered his again in another searing kiss.

Malfoy’s fingers dug into the flesh of his arse _hard_ , forcing his hips forward so that Draco was now fiercely grinding against him, making Harry grunt and moan into his mouth. The repeated pressure of Draco's hard cock pressing against his own felt absolutely _perfect._ Harry was entirely consumed by how _hot_ it was to have someone – to have _Malfoy_ – express so much intense desire for him so blatantly. Everything with Ginny had always been so timid and sweet and gentle and –

_Shit._

Ginny. His wife. His wife, _Ginny_ . The mother of his one-year-old son, James. Ginny, _his wife,_ who was due any day now with their second child.

Harry tore himself away from Malfoy with a gasp.

Malfoy’s gray eyes, dark from lust and glazed from alcohol caught the look of horror on Harry’s face, realization dawning on the blonde with his trademark, almost permanent smirk.

Harry stood there in shock, staring at him, both of their chests heaving while they still panted. Malfoy’s hair was mussed in a way that looked like someone else other than the blonde himself had mussed it, and Harry realized that it had been his own doing. Malfoy’s lips were swollen and flushed red, and Harry could still feel the tingling on his own, could still feel where Malfoy had licked up his neck, his hand on his arse, the hand that had been tightly gripped in his hair. He could still feel their hard cocks pressing together and he wanted it all to continue _so badly_ . He wanted to feel that desperate, sinful mouth back on his, but fuck. _Fuck._ He was a fucking terrible person for it and he knew it.

Malfoy blinked at him, licking his lips and Harry, entranced by it, couldn’t stop himself from slowly stepping closer again, praying to whoever would listen that something, someone, _somehow_ would make him stop, because there was no way he was able to go back now. Not now – not when he finally knew what he had been missing, not when he was fueled by so much desire and by so much whiskey.

His hands were winding into the front of Draco’s robes and he was leaning in, their hot breath mingling, watching dark blonde lashes fluttering closed, and there was no way that Harry could stop himself –

“Harry!” he heard from the back door of the bar. “Oi, Harry! You out here, mate?!” he heard Ron call again, just as he was centimeters away from kissing Draco Malfoy. Harry gasped again, stumbling backwards. Draco was looking at him, his gray eyes still dark, his expression hard.

“Better go see what the Weasel wants, Potter.” he breathed, reaching for his cigarettes again. Harry felt his heart leap into his throat.

Feeling sick with himself, he turned from Malfoy without a word and stumbled through the sparse few shady looking people who were still out there smoking, praying that they had been minding their own business.

“Hey, Ron,” Harry said, not meeting his best friend’s eyes. “’Sup?”

“Whew, mate, you’re more sloshed than I am,” he laughed, clapping Harry on the shoulder. “Found ‘im, ‘Mione!” he yelled.

“’Mione?” Harry said, confused. “Wha’s ‘Mione doin’ here?” She didn’t usually come out when someone in their Department had a birthday.

“Harry! There you are!” Hermione said rushing over, smiling broadly. “Come on you two drunkards, let’s go.”

“Where we goin’, babe?” Ron said in confusion as she pulled them towards the front door.

“What –” he started to ask Ron, but Ron just gave him the drunk version of his ‘I have no idea’ face.

“Good-bye, Steathers, Happy Birthday!” Hermione said brightly to the Auror who had his right cheek pressed to the sticky bar counter, surrounded by empty pint glasses. She pulled them outside into the night on the busy London street. Smiling, she turned to them.

“Sorry – I know this is unexpected, but I wanted to tell you both together and not where it was _so loud._ Ginny’s just gone into labor!” she said excitedly, smile growing bigger.

“Ah! Congrats, mate!” Ron said, immediately pulling Harry into a crushing hug, making them both stumble.

“Come on – St. Mungo’s is only a few blocks this way,” Hermione said. “And seeing as you’re both much too drunk to apparate, we’ll have to walk,” she laughed.

“Yeah – well, ‘s been a crazy night,” Ron said loudly over their heads as they walked through the crowded London nightlife. “We were all doin’ rounds with Steathers, y’know, for his birthday ‘n’ all, as you do, and you’ll never guess who happened to be at the bar, ‘Mione!”

Harry was walking sluggishly, wishing Ron would stop where this was going –

“Who?” Hermione said interestedly, looking up at her husband as they came to a stop at a red pedestrian crossing signal.

“Bloody fucking _Draco Malfoy,_ that’s who!” Ron laughed as their walk signal lit and they started to cross the street.

“Really?!” Hermione said, brushing away the hair that the wind had blown in her face.

“Really!” he said. “’N’ d’you believe it, ‘Mione, he sent me ‘n’ Harry shots on _him,_ the ponce.”

Harry could feel said shots in his stomach, rolling around as he walked, beginning to feel sicker by the minute and still wishing Ron would talk about anything, _anything,_ other than Malfoy right now –

“So, we sent him two on _us,_ ” he continued. “An’ then _four_ more came our way, an’ the waitress told us Malfoy said that _that_ was what we could handle for the rest of the night on him.”

“Oh dear,” Hermione said. “I’m sure that challenge wasn’t ignored by _you,_ Harry,” she laughed again.

“I stopped at six – no way I could do anymore – not after the two pints I already had. But Harry, _fuck,_ Harry _went_ _at it_ with Malfoy,”

Harry abruptly stopped walking, ducking into an alleyway before promptly vomiting on to the pavement.

“Harry!” Hermione gasped, and Ron was immediately at his side, rubbing his shoulder firmly.

“’S alright, mate. Let it out.” he said, leaning over and speaking in what he thought was a whisper to Hermione. “I said I stopped at six – Harry made it to _ten._ ”

“ _Te_ _n!_ Oh my goodness! _Of course_ you and Malfoy would still have a go at each other like a bunch of silly teenagers –”

“Can we –” Harry gasped. “Can we – stop talking about it?” he asked weakly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as his head swam.

“Of course, Harry.”

“Sorry, mate, sorry,” Ron said.

“I wish I had some sobering potions to give you but I didn’t even think of it when Mum firecalled,” she said. “I just apparated straight to the bar –” They resumed walking, Harry struggling to keep a straight path.

“’M gonna be an uncle again – ha!” Ron yelled to the air. “ _Two_ kids already, Harry! We gotta catch up, babe.”

Hermione laughed and blushed as Ron wrapped an arm around her. Harry’s vision blurred and he brought a hand up to his face. _Yep._ He thought. _Glasses still there._ They reached St. Mungo’s a few long minutes later.

“Labor and Delivery, Room 17,” the charge nurse told them, and when they arrived to the room a Healer was just exiting.

“Ah! Mr. Potter! Your wife’s just in here,” she said, holding the door open for them.

Ginny smiled at Harry when he came in, hands on either side of her large, round belly, and Harry felt his chest burn horribly with guilt.

“What’s wrong, Harry?” she said, seeing his face.

“Ah, he prolly just feels bad we’re smashed –” Ron said, leaning over and giving his sister a kiss on the forehead.

“Oh! Oh, it’s alright, dear,” she laughed, and Harry gave her a weak smile, reaching for her hand. “I know how those birthdays get on. I – ooh – I, ow – went to them quite a bit with you when I wasn’t knocked up.”

Ron and Hermione laughed and Harry moved in closer to Ginny.

“Gin –” he said quietly. “I’m – I am really sorry, though,” he said, although he wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to tell her the real reason why.

“Harry,” she sighed, squeezing his hand. “It’s not that – ow – serious! We already have one –” she laughed and then stopped, scrunching up her face. “It – ah – it makes for a good story, anyway,” she finished breathlessly. He pressed his lips together in a half-smile, half-grimace.

“Sure does!” Ron laughed. “Well, see, dear, Daddy was _incredibly_ wasted when you were born…”

Ginny started laughing hard again but this time she stopped with a gasp, beginning to breathe very quickly. “Oh – _oh._ I think – ah, I think –”

“It’s about that time, Mrs. Potter!” said a Healer in a sing-song voice, waltzing into their room after an almost non-existent knock.

“Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, could you please wait in the hall?” The Healer’s assistant politely asked them.

“Absolutely!” Hermione said, grinning and dragging Ron, who was giving Harry and Ginny a thumbs-up, out of the room.

“Would you like a calming Potion, Mrs. Potter?”

“No – I – ah, why? Do I – ah – do I not seem – OW, _perfectly calm_?” she asked, gritting her teeth and squeezing Harry’s hand tightly.

“Pain relief potion, then?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” she chanted, and the Healer’s assistant handed her a small vial that she drank immediately, sighing in relief. The Healer was saying “I’m getting you into position now, alright, Mrs. Potter?” waving her wand before she even finished speaking, and Ginny nodded as her feet were being magically supported up.

Harry watched silently, remembering just how nervous he had been the first time this had happened a little over a year ago, and he was feeling just as nervous again, but his second child was only half the reason why.

At least twenty minutes, a lot of panting, pushing and hand squeezing later, the sound of a baby crying had filled the room along with Ginny’s gasping from her efforts.

“It’s a boy!” the Healer announced to them, as they had chosen not to know until this very moment. Harry, still guilt ridden though he was, leaned in and kissed Ginny sweetly, tears prickling at his eyes as the assistant brought a bundle over to their arms.

“Oh, _hellooo,”_ Ginny said very softly, gently sweeping her fingers over their new son’s cheeks, tufts of wild black hair sticking out of where the blanket wrapped around the baby’s head. His little cries had stopped the moment Ginny had spoken, making cute little scrunched faces, his swollen eyes still closed. “It’s all right, Mummy’s here,” she said, pressing a few small kisses to his soft face and rocking him gently for a few moments. “Daddy’s here, too,” she whispered with a smile, and then passed the precious bundle slowly into Harry’s arms.

Harry held his second child, his second son, for the first time, pride, joy and an immense amount of love wiping away everything else he might have been feeling in that very moment.

“Hey,” he whispered. He was holding him very carefully, still leaning into the bed very close to Ginny, not trusting his whiskey-laden motor skills enough to walk around the room safely with his newborn in his arms. “Welcome to the world, little guy.”

Harry watched the baby squirm a bit in his arms, slowly opening his eyes at Harry’s voice, and Ginny gasped.

“Oh, _Harry –”_ she said happily, and Harry couldn’t stop the hot tears that began to run down his face as he looked back into his mother’s green eyes.

“Time for papers, I’m afraid, Dad,” said the assistant Healer, smiling. Harry cleared his throat and nodded, putting his son softly back into his wife’s arms.

The assistant handed him a quill as he walked over to her and he leaned down to the table to write on the parchment.

“Have you both decided on a name?” she asked Ginny, standing next to Harry as the quill began to scratch.

“Oh, we decided that Harry could name the baby if it was a boy, and I would if it was a girl –”

“Oh, I think that’s _so sweet_ when couples do that!" the assistant told her, continuing to talk, but Harry wasn’t listening.

He was still wildly drunk beyond measure, and he couldn’t for the life of him recall any names that he had been possibly considering. Come to think of it, he wasn't sure if he had even given it thought prior to now. He wracked his brain not just for any names, but names that were meaningful. Very meaningful.

When he finished moments later with his signature on the line labeled ‘Father’, he stumbled a bit standing back up straight, handing the parchment back to the assistant. She looked down at it quickly, the wand in her hand ready to transfer the information to a very tiny blue bracelet.

“Well, say hello to…” she squinted at Harry’s sloppy penmanship. “ _Albus_ … _Severus_ … Potter!” she said, magically transferring the legal document’s information to the bracelet.

Ginny gaped at him as the assistant then attached the bracelet to the baby’s tiny right wrist, which had been gently pulled from the bundle. Finished with her work, she happily started out of the room, telling them “I’ll let your brother back in now!” as she left.

“Heeeeyyy!” Ron said, coming back in, Hermione at his side as they both went to Harry to wrap him in a tight hug. Harry wrapped his arms around them both for a few moments.

“Another nephew!” Ron exclaimed proudly as he broke their embrace, clapping Harry on the back. Hermione quickly went over to Ginny, who had still not stopped gaping at Harry, even as Hermione said “ _Oh_ , may I?” excitedly, and Ginny nodded dumbly.

Hermione scooped the baby up, cradling the little boy in her arms as she stood.

“Harry! Oh – _Harry –_ he has your eyes! Ron, look –” Ron went over to stand behind Hermione, hands on her shoulders, peering over her left one.

“Aw, he _does_!” Ron smiled, tearing up. “Man – my nephew with m’ best mate’s weirdly green eyes –” he said, getting choked up about it.

“Yes – oh, how sweet! What’s your name, little one?” Hermione said to the baby, expecting his parents to answer her.

“Albus. Severus.” Ginny said flatly, still in disbelief. Hermione snorted.

“No – really – what’s –” and she stopped when she saw Ginny’s face, realizing that her sister-in-law had let her very drunk husband name their second child.

“I think that’s bloody _great!”_ Ron said with a drunken sob, a tear finally falling down his freckled face. 

“Welcome to the world, Al!”


End file.
